


Lavender's Blue

by annannette (fanetjuh)



Series: Jonsa Week [8]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jon Snow is a Targaryen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/annannette
Summary: Once Upon A Time, in a faraway kingdom, Sansa Stark was humming a song while she swept the floors of Winterfell. Her face was covered in dirt and ashes. Her hands were dry and wrinkled from washing clothes and doing the dishes. But her hope and kindness had not been damaged by all those years of being ordered around by Ramsay Bolton and his girlfriend of the week.





	Lavender's Blue

Once Upon A Time, in a faraway kingdom, Sansa Stark was humming a song while she swept the floors of Winterfell. Her face was covered in dirt and ashes. Her hands were dry and wrinkled from washing clothes and doing the dishes. But her hope and kindness had not been damaged by all those years of being ordered around by Ramsay Bolton and his girlfriend of the week.

She still smiled when she served breakfast in the early morning, even when Ramsay grabbed her skirt and pulled her closer towards him. She still smiled when she fed the dogs, even when Ramsay wondered out loud what her flesh would taste like. She still smiled when she changed the sheets on the bed, even though she knew that she would be the one sleeping there, with Ramsay’s hands and lips in places where she didn’t want to feel them.

Once Winterfell had been her home. Once it had been the place where she laughed with her brothers and sister. Once it had been the place where her mother taught her how to lead a household. Once it had been the place where she was surrounded by love and laughter.

Now it was a prison, a cage. The cold stone walls locking her up, away from the world. The once so friendly maids now lowering their glances when they walked past her. The once so galant servants now refusing to talk to her.

“Sansa!” Myranda’s sharp voice echoed through the hallway and she placed her hands in her sides when she noticed the red haired Stark girl sitting in a chair next to the fireplace. “You have to help me pick a dress for tonight.” She raised her eyebrows when Sansa stood up and put her shoes back on.

Her feet were covered in blisters and at some moments the pain was unbearable, but Sansa had learned how to put on a mask. “Of course, my lady.” She nodded her head slightly and followed Myranda to her room.

“At first I thought about wearing the blue one. I know Ramsay likes that one. But then I found this red one. Don’t you think it’s way more sexy?” Myranda locked her glance with Sansa’s.

“I personally think he prefers you without clothes.” Sansa stared at her feet and folded her hands behind her back. “He likes every woman without clothes.” Her voice was nothing but a soft whisper.

“I know.” Myranda shrugged her shoulders. “But I can’t show up naked at Dragonstone, can I?”

“Dragonstone?” Sansa looked up and all her muscles tensed. “Why are you going to Dragonstone?”

“King Rhaeger invited all unwed ladies from Westeros. I’ve heard he’s ill and might be dying soon. He wants to be sure that his son is married before he goes.”

Sansa frowned her eyebrows and the palms of her hands started sweating.

Dragonstone. That was where Jon worked.

Sansa had met Jon a couple of days ago. She had been sent away to gather some extremely rare flowers and she had not so accidentally gotten lost. For a short moment she had enjoyed the privacy, the freedom, the fresh air, the smell of all the flowers and the wind blowing the trees.

“What’s a beautiful lady doing here in the woods all on her own?”

She had looked up when a rider appeared not too far away from her. She had quickly tried to wipe the dirt from her face and she had tried to clean her dress. “I’m not a lady, sir.” She had lowered her glance and had stood up to bow. “I’m only a simple servant girl sent away to get some flowers.” She had expected the rider to continue his journey through the woods to who knew where, but instead he had come down from his horse and had walked towards her.

“It’s dangerous.” He had raised his eyebrows. “And there is no need to bow for me.”

Sansa had looked up again. She had not spent that many time outside the walls of the castle, not since her father and brothers had been murdered at least, and she had never seen the stranger before. “My name is Sansa.” She had left out her last name, considering it unimportant at that time. “I work at Winterfell. And you are?”

For a moment the stranger had frowned his eyebrows, but then he had cleared his throat. “I’m euhm…” He had stuttered. “Jon.” He had not given her a last name either. “I euhm…work at Dragonstone. What are you doing here in the woods all alone?”

Sansa had taken a deep breath. The sun had started to set already and if she wouldn’t be home soon, she would maybe be punished or Ramsay would really execute his threat and would serve her as dinner to his dogs. “I’m finding these rare flowers for the lady I work for.” She had licked her lips. “Actually I already found them, but I wanted to spend some more time outside the castle walls.”

“Are they not treating you well?” Jon had stepped closer towards her, but Sansa had simply shrugged her shoulders.

“They don’t know better.” She had tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “I should go now, I’m afraid. I have to be back before dark.” Quickly she had nodded her head once more and than she had walked passed him.

“Will I see you again?” Jon had grabbed her wrist and he had locked his glance with hers. “I would like to see you again.”

“I rarely leave the castle. But maybe our paths will cross here in the woods again.” Sansa had swallowed and she had ignored her racing heart in her chest. “I hope they will.” She had twirled her wrist around and freed herself and with quick steps she had ran back to Winterfell, to her prison, to her cage, with the image of Jon in the back of her mind.

“Do you need a maid to come with you?” Sansa didn’t know where the courage to ask to come along came from. She had never felt courageous, not since her father had been beheaded, not since Ramsay Bolton had made her a maid in her own house. “I could do your hair, help you with getting dressed and…” Sansa didn’t know what else she could do.

“If I would bring a maid with me to Dragonstone, why would I bring you?” Myranda raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can pick the dress I’m gonna wear and then you’re gonna clean all our silver. If I don’t get to marry the crown prince I want to invite him and his wife over for dinner. I want us to be at least friends, but preferable more.”

“What does Ramsay say about that?” Sansa blurted the question out, but regretted it almost immediately again. “I mean, weren’t you and Ramsay engaged?”

“He’d happily share me with the crown prince, soon to be king.”

Of course he would. He would find a way to get better from it. He would find a way to manipulate the young and inexperienced king into anything. He would see an opportunity. And he didn’t care about monogamy that much anyway.

“So, which dress?” Myranda lifted her chin and straightened her back and Sansa stuck her tongue between her lips.

“The blue one.” She was certain that the red one would look way more impressive, but if Myranda wouldn’t let Sansa come with her, Sansa wouldn’t help her to win the heart of the poor crown prince who was tricked into something he couldn’t even understand.

“You’re worthless. I’ll wear the red one.” Myranda put the blue one back into the closet. “And now leave. We have a lot of silver. You have work to do. I want you to show me all cleaned pieces the second I return home.”

Sansa didn’t know how many hours had passed already. The sun had set, but she was still trying to clean the silver plates and silver spoons and silver forks and silver knives.

Once this had all been from her father, from her family. They had used it to throw huge parties. Maybe, if they had still been alive they would have thrown a party for everyone at Dragonstone. The king would come, the crown prince and of course all of their maids and servants. And among them would be Jon.

Jon.

Sansa let out a deep sigh while she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Even though she looked horrible, Jon had liked her.

He had not ran away. He had instead grabbed her hand and had told her that he wanted to see her again. If he had already liked her like this, maybe, just maybe, he could love her if he knew what she could look like, what she had once looked like.

“Sansa…”

Sansa looked up when she heard a soft whisper. She was surrounded by darkness and nothing but darkness, but she swore she had heard a voice.

“Sansa?” A small little firefly circled around her head. “What if I tell you that you can go to Jon? And that I can help you to show him how pretty you are?”

Sansa had to concentrate to actually hear the flustering, but her heart skipped a beat in her chest. “You can do that?” She knew that she was probably dreaming, or hallucinating, fallen asleep because she had spent too much time cleaning, or simply hungry because she had skipped a few meals.  “How?” She answered.

“Close your eyes!” The firefly sat down on the tip of her nose and Sansa did what it said. “Count to twenty.”

Sansa started counting.

“No, slower.”

She slowed down.

“No, no, slower! I can’t work that fast!”

Sansa curled her lips up into a smile and slowed down even more When she finally reached the twenty, after what felt like ten minutes, she opened her eyes. She widened her eyes when she noticed her reflection in the window. She was wearing a giant green dress, with a skirt that wouldn’t even fit through a normal door. Her hair was curled and braided and much to her surprise her skin was spotless and her hands were soft and undamaged. “How did you do that?”

“Miracles happen to those who dream.” The firefly flew up and headed towards the door. “Follow me.”

Sansa lifted her skirt up and she stopped breathing when she noticed the green glass slippers she was wearing.

They were breathtaking, more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before, and a lot more comfortable than one would expect glass to be.

With quick steps she followed the firefly through the castle, through the empty halls, down the stairs, outside. She left tracks in the fresh fallen snow, but despite the arriving winter she was not even shivering. “Is that…” She stood still when she noticed the golden carriage. “Where did you get that from?”

“Miracles happen to those who dream.” The firefly repeated and a butler, who didn’t seem to be able to speak, opened the door of the carriage so Sansa could step in.

“Make your dreams come true, Sansa Stark.” The firefly whispered, before it flew away and left Sansa on her own.

But the servant closed the door of the carriage and less than a second later the horses started to run. They run faster than the wind. They run faster than any other horse had ever done. They run that fast that the evening had nog even ended when Sansa arrived at Dragonstone.

She let her eyes wander over the palace as soon as she stepped out.

Candles were brightening the path and the stairs leading towards the front door. The sound of the maddened sea crashing into the stones couldn’t completely overwhelm the sound of the violins playing a soothing song. And the gigantic statues of dragons caused a shiver to roll down her spine even though they were nothing but a pile of stones shaped into the form of an animal that was long gone.

Sansa took a deep breath. She placed her hand on the banisters and headed towards the front door. She was late already. Not that late that the doors had already closed, but too late to be welcomed and too late to be officially introduced. But she simply followed the decorations while she looked at the paintings on the wall. At the last painting she stood still. She recognized those eyes, those dark curls, those lips, the frown on his forehead.

Jon. Jon didn’t just work her. Jon was the crown prince.

Sansa looked at the door. If she had known that he was the crown prince, she wouldn’t have come here. What would a simple maid want with the future king of Westeros? What did she have to offer?

“The ball is that way, my lady.”

She wanted to turn around, but a young girl grabbed her hand and forced her to enter the ballroom. Sansa’s mouth dropped when she saw the enormous crowd that had gathered and she stopped breathing when she saw the crown prince, Jon, in the middle of the dance floor with his hands on Myranda’s shoulders.

But when he looked up and saw her, standing there, in the door opening, he pulled his hands back and started to make his way through the crowd. He didn’t need to push anyone aside. It was as if the people were the Red Sea, splitting with one wave of his hand, with one smooth movement of his wrist. “Sansa?”

“Jon?” Sansa swallowed when the crown prince climbed the stairs.

Jon looked handsome. He looked like a crown prince.

How could she not have seen that before?

“May I have this dance from you?” Jon bowed and then he stretched out his hand.

Sansa had learned how to dance when she was younger, but now she was hesitating. “How did you know it was me?” She licked her lips and shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“I would recognize you anywhere.” Jon smiled, he still had his hand stretched out and eventually Sansa placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her to the dance floor. “I thought you rarely left Winterfell?”

“I do.” Sansa cleared her throat. “And I have to be back soon, before anyone misses me.” She bent her head.

“You can’t leave before you’ve agreed to marry me.” Jon pulled her a little closer towards him.

“I can’t…” She shook her head. “I’m only a simple maid. You’ll be the king of Westeros.” She stepped back and freed herself from his embrace. “Coming here has been a mistake, I’m sorry.” She didn’t give Jon the chance to answer, nor did she give him the chance to grab her wrist and pull her back. She lifted her skirt up and started running. She ran through the crowd, gladly helping her to distract the crown prince so the distance between them grew bigger and bigger. She climbed the stairs and rushed through the hallway and not once did she look over her shoulder. She rushed back to her carriage and when she lost one of her beautiful green glass slippers she didn’t stop. Instead she kept on running and without asking for an explanation the butler opened the door of the carriage to let her in.

The carriage shocked a little, but the horses ran home just as fast as they had ran towards Dragonstone.

“That was fast…” The little firefly flew back to Sansa while she stepped out of the carriage. “Wasn’t he what you wanted him to be?”

Sansa shook her head and she fought against the tears that were burning in her eyes. “He was more, way more than I wanted him to be. But I, I can never be what he wanted me to be.” She took of the other glass slipper and stared at it, at her reflection in it. “I have to get back to cleaning the silver, before Myranda gets back.” Sansa bent her head and she walked inside. Her footsteps echoed through the halls and she quickly took off her dress and hid it in the back of her closet. She took all of the bobby pins from her hair and tied it together in a messy bun again. She was not a princess. She couldn’t marry the crown prince. She was Sansa. A servant girl with a dead family. She sighed when she sat down on a wooden chair again and she continued cleaning the endless amount of silver plates and spoons and knives and forks and bowls.

“Where is she?” Myranda stormed into the room.

Sansa’s hands were raw and damaged again after cleaning all night. Pearls of sweat covered her forehead and black lines were all over her face after her countless attempts to wipe the sweat away.

“What have you done?” Myranda crossed her arms over her chest and Sansa looked up. “Why did you try to steal the crown prince? What did you want with him?”

“Nothing!” Sansa shook her head. “I swear! I didn’t know he was the crown prince! I was looking for Jon and…” She widened her eyes when Myranda walked towards her.

Firmly Myranda grabbed Sansa’s chin and forced her to look up. “His name isn’t Jon.” She hissed between his teeth. “Where did you get that dress? Who did your hair? Who helped you to pull this off?”

“No one!” Sansa’s voice was high pitched now and she lifted her hands up. “Please, I swear, I didn’t want to steal the crown prince.” She pouted and the tears, she had managed to fight all night, were now rolling down her cheeks. “Please, don’t tell Ramsay.” She felt her heart racing in her chest.

If Ramsay would discover what she had done, where she had gone, he would feed her to his dogs without even thinking about it.

“Am I supposed to let you get away with this?” Myranda chuckled. “I should feed you to the dogs myself!” She spit in Sansa’s face. “But the crown prince is on his way to Winterfell. He’s on his way to ask you again to marry him.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. “I will say no, I promise. I will do everything!”

“Good.” Myranda loosened her grip. “Because everything is exactly what you’re gonna do.” She let Sansa go. “You’re gonna tell me exactly where you two have met, what you’ve been talking about. You’re gonna give me that green dress and the glass slipper you have not left behind. You’re gonna help me to die my hair red. You’re gonna help me to look like you. You’re gonna help me to be you. And I’ll be the one he will ask to marry. And I’ll be the one saying yes.”

Sansa took a few deep breaths, but she thought about the dogs, about their sharp teeth, about their endless appetite. “Of course, I will help you.” She put the silver plate she had been cleaning down and stood up from her seat. “I will tell you everything I know. I will give you everything I have. I will die your hair and I will teach you to be me.” Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces while she said that, but she hid all those emotions as well as she could. She was Sansa Stark. She had not been broken and she would not allow Myranda to break her now. She would not allow anyone to break her now.

So when Jon arrived, accompanied by at least ten guards to protect him, Sansa hid between the other servants. Her brown hair was covered by a dirty kerchief. Her face was covered in dirt and barely recognizable. And so she was forced to watch how Jon asked Ramsay about Sansa, about the servant girl he had met in the woods, about the servant girl who had been at the ball, about the girl he had fallen in love with and wanted to marry.

“You want to marry a servant girl?” Ramsay curled his lips up into a smile and raised his eyebrows. “My dear prince, I don’t want to doubt your wisdom, but Sansa is not our brightest maid nor the most beautiful one we have.”

“She’s all I want. I need to see her. I need to know if she only said no because she’s a maid and I’m a prince. I need to ask her again if she wants to marry me.”

Ramsay stood up from his seat. “Fine, I’ll bring her here for you. You have five more minutes to change your mind, which is the smarter thing to do if you ask me.” He left the room and Sansa couldn’t help staring at Jon, at his tongue, stuck between his lips, at his eyes, filled with longing and love, at his curls, dancing around his handsome face, at his hands, folded behind his back, at the pearls of sweat covering his forehead.

“Can I offer you a seat?” Sansa stepped forward.

“No, no thank you miss.” Jon didn’t even turn his head to look at her, his glance non stop at the door, waiting for the girl of his dreams to appear.

If only she could tell him that she stood right here, that she was it, that she was Sansa, that she was the girl he was looking for. And that, if he was really sure about marrying her, she would want to marry him too. But she couldn’t. Ramsay could be back any second now and if he would see what she was doing, she would not survive it. So she stepped back and she bent her head to stare at her feet when the door opened again.

“One last chance.” Ramsay had his hands on Myranda’s shoulders and a smirk around his lips. “You can still end this foolishness.” He cocked his head, but Jon rapidly shook his.

“I won’t change my mind.” He stared at Myranda, at her red hair, at the green dress she was wearing.

She bent her head and her knees, but she didn’t lift her skirt. She had not fitted into the glass slipper, something she wanted to keep hidden until they were bound for life.

“I want to marry her.” Jon frowned his eyebrows while he reached for Myranda’s hands. She did everything Sansa had told her, but Jon cocked his head and then he let her hands go again. “This is not my Sansa.” He turned his glance to Ramsay. His lips were forming a straight line and the frown on his forehead deepened. “Where is Sansa?”

Ramsay raised his eyebrows and then he started laughing. “You don’t even recognize the love of your life?”

“I do. I very well do.” Jon stepped closer towards Ramsay and Jon curled his hand around Ramsay’s neck. “That is not my Sansa. Where is she?”

Ramsay lifted his hands up in the air. “You barely know her. She has worked for me for years. I know what Sansa looks like. I know what every inch of her looks like.” He grinned. “Still want to have her?”

“Yes.” Jon hissed between his teeth. “And if you don’t tell me where to find her, I will find her myself.” He let Ramsay go again, but not before he made a gesture towards his guards.

Without another word they grabbed Ramsay and Myranda and guided them out of the kitchen.

“Where is Sansa?”

Sansa froze, her muscles were tensed, but eventually, after a few deep breaths, she stepped forward. “I’m here, Jon.” She lowered her glance and pulled the kerchief from her head. “I know I look different, but I can give you the other slipper. Myranda didn’t fit in, but…” She couldn’t finish her sentence.

Jon took the other glass slipper out of his pocket and he kneeled down in front of her. Without another word he took her dirty shoe off and gently he put the green glass slipper on. He looked up and her glance met his. “I don’t need a shoe to know it’s you.” He straightened his back again. “I am not fooled by the color of your hair or the dirt on your face.” He pressed the palms of his hands to her cheeks. “I would recognize you anywhere and everywhere.” He leaned in and pressed his lips on hers. “Will you please marry me, Sansa…” He hesitated for a moment.

“Stark…” She spoke softly. “I’m Sansa Stark…”

Jon stared at her for a moment and then he kissed her again. “Will you please marry me, princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell?”

“Yes…” Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, I will.”

And so Jon Targaryen, as Sansa kept on calling him, promised to restore Winterfell in its old glory. Just like he promised to let Ramsay and Myranda meet a fate worse than dead for all they had done in the present and the past. Just like he promised that Sansa Stark, his Sansa Stark, would be his queen when he would become king.

And, if they have not died yet, they still live happily ever after.


End file.
